Sincerely, Red

Chapter Five

Dear Liv,

It's Christmas today.

You probably already knew that, but I just figured I'd tell you anyway. I don't know if the giant plastic Santa's all around town or the tree in the centre of the shopping centre gave it away at all. Maybe it was just the Christmas themed decorations hanging off of every lamppost this side of England.

Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration.

I don't know about your street (see, I'm not a stalker), but mine is really silver. I can't see a lot of red and I can't explain how glad I am about that. The person who strung the tinsel, and baubles and little bells all over the place has obviously been injected with a lot of sense this year.

No one here likes red.

I saw a couple of Christmas carollers last night. My mum opened the door and gave them the Halloween candy from two years ago, smiled really tightly for about five minutes and slammed the door in their faces.

I swear they were only, like, seven years old so it made everything seem ten times worse.

I hope your Christmas is going okay.

I know Claire was always a bit of a control freak. She had this stupid angel with a designer dress and fifty inch high heels (again, a bit of an exaggeration), which completely defeated the tradition. She'd decorate the top of the tree first and then the bottom, making sure everything was red, gold and silver.

I think, once, you thought it was a cake and stuck a candle on it. Everyone thought it was really cute, until the little dumb kid from next door tried to drag the tree to the fireplace to light it.

My stomach hurt for days because I laughed so hard.

This time, I'm not laughing because I have no one to celebrate Christmas with. Usually, you'd come round with this stupid goofy grin on your face and a giant present in your arms. You liked wrapping them up, with the bows and everything.

Without that, it doesn't feel like Christmas.

The only present I've gotten so far is a new t-shirt with a gold eagle printed on to it, and it looks more like a squirrel with a cardboard beak.

Anyway, I've got to go soon.

My mum gets high on Christmas.

There's a lamppost at the end of this street and this guy sells her cannabis at half eight on this day every year. It's like a tradition, I guess. She disappears for a while after that and comes back with Tim or as I like to call him the Old Geezer. They crack open bottle after bottle until he's singing punk rock songs at the top of his lungs and she doesn't know what year it is.

After I told you about her problems that one time, you came round every Boxing Day and helped me tidy up, because my nosey neighbour always came to check on me.

She still does that by the way.

Okay. I'm really going to go now.

Have a nice Christmas, Liv. Spend it with David. He's a nice guy.

Sincerely, Red

P.S. There's a present in the envelope. I promise it's not poisoned or anything.

I tucked the letter in to my jeans pocket, taking out the little Santa chocolate in the envelope at the same time. Wrapped in red foil and holding a golden wreath, it looked every inch the traditional food item, right next to the turkey and candy canes.